Snowboarding
Redefining Steep Lines with Rhem and Ruby
When falling is not an option: Rhem and Ruby’s Chamonix first descents raised the bar… to the limit.
First descent of Le Triolet’s north face
© Philippe Fragnol
In our new Steep series we present gnarly ski and snowboard descents that by common sense appear impossible – and the insanely talented few that tackle them nevertheless.
Make no mistake – in any of the presented lines the slightest mistake has potentially fatal consequences – don't try this at home.
Deep in the heart of the French people is a love for big mountains. A desire to conquer the unconquerable, born of a need to scale the needle-like peaks that flank its eastern border. By royal decree, the French were the first true mountaineers: Charles VII of France ordered his chamberlain to climb Mont Aiguille – in 1356.
Tackling the Mallory Run on Aiguille du Midi
© Philippe Fragnol
Deep in the heart of the French Alps is the Mont Blanc massif, the majestic range that towers above the mountain town of Chamonix. First conquered in 1786 by Jacques Balmat and Michel Paccard, Mont Blanc is regarded as the spiritual home of mountaineering.
Each year, some 20,000 climbers reach its summit, and each year The White Killer claims the lives of a not-so-few: more than any other mountain in fact, including Everest.
Working in tandem, on Aiguille du Moine
© Philippe Fragnol
Deep in the heart of Mont Blanc folklore are the Guides: the oldest and biggest guides association in the world, a 240-man elite who know this mountain better than anyone, without whose expertise and bravery the annual death toll would be far higher.
This then, is the setting for one of snowboarding’s greatest accomplishments: the first (and only) descent of the North Face of Le Triolet – arguably the gnarliest descent of them all.
Left: Dedé Rhem. Right: Jérome Ruby
© Philippe Fragnol
Way back in 1995, Jerome Ruby and Dedé Rhem were two Chamonix guides with a difference – they were snowboarders, not skiers – and a mission: to ride down faces that previously had only been climbed by the most experienced ice mountaineers.
Accompanied by photographer Philippe Fragnol, Rhem and Ruby spent the summer climbing, then, ice axes in hand, riding/hacking/edging/belaying down a series of insanely steep descents that culminated with the 60° madness of Le Triolet itself.
Was the riding smooth, stylish? Not really: the snowpack was crusty and treacherous. Was it pushing the limits of the sport? Definitely. And were the photos mind-blowing? Absolutely.
Sharp edges, sharp ice axes, and sharp reflexes.
© Philippe Fragnol
Were Rhem and Ruby crazy? Well, perhaps by the reckoning of some. But, in the context of being mountain guides born and raised in the shadow of the Aiguille du Midi, they were simply two men in pursuit of a goal many of us can relate to, but only a handful could ever achieve.
They knew the dangers involved, knew that the smallest slip could send them falling into the abyss – Rhem was destined to die in an avalanche some years later – but this was their profession, their passion. They did it because it needed to be done. It was what they were born to do.